The Diner Diaries
by Ripley Whitaker
Summary: Alice Smith (formerly Cooper) has taken over the running of Pop's Diner after his retirement. Trouble arises in Riverdale once more as she fights to keep the diner from being torn down, all while she tries to rebuild her relationships with the people who mean the most to her. Falice and eventually Bughead. Reviews welcome!
1. Burning Up

Pop Tate was tired. That was all. Who wouldn't be? He was 72, he'd been keeping the grill hot at the Chock'Lit Shoppe for damn near 50 years, and Riverdale- the place that made the idea of staying in your home town for the rest of your life not seem like such a bad idea- had changed, and not for the better.

He was tired, and it was time to rest.

That was when Alice Cooper- well, Alice Smith now- came in. She'd had her world nearly destroyed after finding out her son wasn't her son at all, her real son was most likely dead if she could believe anything that Chic said at all, she didn't know how to fix all of the mistakes she'd made with the biological father of said deceased son, and on top of that the man she'd been sharing her bed with for 20 years was a deranged serial killer.

It was 4 o'clock in the morning when she'd shuffled into the diner and, whether she knew it or not, changed everything.

The bell over the door rang softly, causing Pop Tate to look up from where he was absent mindedly wiping a non-existent smudge off the counter.

Alice Smith looked like he felt. Dark circles of exhaustion ringed her eyes and it was obvious that she was in dire need of- what? For everyone in town to suddenly forget who she was- what Hal, and in the hearts of many of the more judgmental citizens of Riverdale, by association she, had done?

The best he could offer her just before dawn on a Tuesday morning was a burger and a milkshake.

"Alice Smith, as I live and breathe," he said, trying to sound more cheerful than he felt.

"Hey Pop," she said as she took the nearest front counter seat. "Why are you here so early?"

"Oh, you know, it's hard these days finding kids willing to man the fort this time of the morning."

If he was being honest, it wasn't really a lack of hired help. These days, sleep was a hard-won ally. When he did sleep, it was fitful and half full of uneasy dreams.

If the Black Hood's reign of terror in the waking world was over, his brain (or perhaps his heart) hadn't gotten the message. He awoke bathed in sweat, his heart beating hard- too hard, he thought sometimes, for man who certainly had more days behind him than ahead. As he laid awake and stared at the ceiling, he willed himself to believe that the nightmare was finished.

"What can I get for you- the usual?"

Alice smiled wearily. "That'll be fine, Pop." He never forgot the favorite order of the regulars of Riverdale- a quirk perfected over decades that was a big part of what he attributed his success to. Alice Smith- a medium rare bacon cheeseburger, hold the pickles, with extra crispy fries and a strawberry milkshake.

She was quiet behind him, and a comfortable silence descended as he placed a napkin rolled around cutlery in front of her and set about making her food.

The sizzling of the grill was still a comforting sound after all of these years, the only place- up until the last six months or so- where he had truly felt like no matter what happened, everything was going to be ok, just in general. The earth would still spin, God would still be in his heaven, and life in Riverdale would keep on keepin' on. His father used to say that.

Pop was content to just let her be- maybe what she really came in here for wasn't a burger but plain old peace and quiet. He could understand that. A lot of the late night and early morning regulars weren't much for conversation, preferring to eat their burgers in companionable silence. If there was anything that he had learned over the last 50 years, it was that you learned a lot more by listening than by talking.

So, he was a little surprised when he heard Alice speak from behind him.

"You know, Pop, I don't know what I would do without this place."

"I'm sure you all would find somewhere to else to eat, this place wasn't the first burger joint in town and it won't be the last," he said with a wry smile as he flipped her burger.

"No, really, this place means everything to this town- to Jughead, to Archie and Veronica, to Betty and Polly, to me and…" Her voice wavered, and he glanced over his shoulder at Alice.

"To my family…" she finished. He knew she'd been about to say her and Hal, back when they were still a "we", or "us", a "them". When the Coopers were still a singular unit instead of just scattered fragments. A habit borne of the years. It would take a long time, however much she hated Hal sometimes, to truly come to terms with the dissolution of not only her marriage but of everything she thought she knew about her place in the world. Her perfect family, shredded to bits, and the illusion that she was still the Northside Ice Queen, large and in charge, shattered irrevocably.

Her eyes looked shiny, and suddenly Alice Smith looked more vulnerable than he'd ever seen her, even after they led Hal away in hand and ankle chains. Ever since then, she'd been holding on by a thread, but it was growing more frayed by the day. She wasn't sure how much more she could hold on. Something had to give- it was the law of the Universe. She just hoped it wasn't her sanity. At this point, all bets were off.

"What's on your mind, Alice? How are you doing, honestly?" He said, sliding her burger in front of her and leaning his elbow on the counter.

It wasn't until he asked that that she realized she couldn't remember the last time that anyone, family, friend or otherwise, had asked her how she was actually feeling.

Most of the time in the past, she'd admit, it came out whether someone had asked her or not, but at this point, she'd been bottling it up for the sake of her family and for her own self that there was no room for any more emotion.

The dam broke.

She told Pop everything- the whole sordid tale. From her shitty childhood on the Southside, to her past and present dalliances with FP, to how when Hal started choking her during their confrontation that all she could think about was her children. Not her own demise but who was going to take Betty to school or cook her dinner if she was 6 feet under and Hal was rotting on Death Row up in Shankshaw, waiting to ride the lightning, as his father also used to say.

Pop didn't like his father very much.

By the time she finished the sun was peeking over the horizon and she had a tear stained pile of shredded napkins in front of her that she'd ripped up out of nervousness while she recounted the best and worst times of her life.

The only thing she didn't include was what had led her to the diner at 4 am. It was too raw.

"Wow," he said when she had dabbed the last of her tears away and gained some semblance of control over her emotions. She felt husked, powerfully cleansed in a way that she hadn't felt in years- maybe ever.

"Wow is right," she replied with a small laugh. "I don't even want to know what you think of me now."

He looked thoughtful for a moment.

"Honestly, Alice, I think you're one of the strongest women I've ever met. And I'd like to think I've met a respectable number of them in my time."

For the first time since she walked in he saw what halfway resembled an actual smile on her face.

"Thank you, Pop. That means a lot to me."

The bell behind her suddenly chimed as the second customer of the morning walked in.

FP Jones.

A frown quickly replaced Alice's tentative smile and she stood up, suddenly unable to spend one more minute in the diner, like something (or someone) had poisoned the air.

"Can I get the check please, Pop?" She said, digging through her purse for her wallet.

"It's on the house Alice, don't worry about it."

If he hadn't been planning to give her food at no charge before, he certainly was now, seeing how uncomfortable she seemed.

"Thank you, Pop." She fled to the door, steadfastly trying to avoid FP's gaze as he headed for the counter.

"Alice."

That was all FP said by the way of a greeting as she passed. It was like they hadn't seen each other in years, were merely distant acquaintances, not lovers or friends with benefits or whatever you might call them now.

She ignored him and then she was gone. The shredded pile of napkins and a faint trace of perfume in the air was all that betrayed her earlier presence.

FP sat down at the counter and sighed heavily.

This was all wrong. The diner, Alice, their whole lives. They did, or at least Alice did, what they thought was best, and it still ended up leading them all into this hellish caricature of a normal life.

"You should go after her, you know," Pop said.

FP looked at him strangely. Pop wasn't in the habit of giving relationship advice and FP wasn't in the habit of taking it.

"This isn't a romance movie, Pop," FP said. "I don't get the girl in the end and we have a happy ending with flowers and rainbows." He laughed bitterly. "Alice Smith doesn't want anything to do with me."

Pop didn't really have a good response to that, suddenly feeling at a loss for words. If anything of what Alice had just told him was true, it was that her feelings for FP had always been there and probably always would.

How had they gotten their wires so crossed?

FP scrubbed his face with his hands and stood up from his chair.

"I think I'm just going to go home, Pop," he said. He looked tired, too, like he hadn't slept in days. Weeks, even.

Pop looked at him sadly as FP didn't wait for a reply and walked out of the diner.

"Be well, Alice Smith and FP Jones," Pop whispered to the empty diner, another one of the thousands of utterances that only the walls of Pop's diner heard. It wasn't the first time that he wished they could talk back.


	2. Please Don't Go

Alice's story had left Pop feeling unmoored. If even the Alice Smiths of the world had no idea what the hell was going on anymore than what hope was there for the rest of them?

That was when he decided that if anyone needed the shining beacon of stability and comforting presence of Pop's Diner, it was Alice Smith. Not to mention something to keep her busy now that she wasn't working at the Riverdale Register anymore. There were too many memories there now of working with Hal, and of writing the stories that she unwittingly wrote about him for her to ever go back.

In her heart, she would always be a journalist, would always be that girl who wanted to find the dark corners of the world and illuminate them. She just didn't know when she started that maybe there were monsters with sharp teeth in the shadows. And, sometimes, they knew your name and how you liked your coffee in the morning.

She knew now.

A big part of Pop knew that it was a crazy idea. For starters, why would Alice Smith even entertain the idea of trying to run a business with all the stress she was currently under. Secondly, how would he even broach the subject? Just ambush her the next time that she happened to come into the diner?

 _Hey, I know you're on the verge of losing your mind but I'm ready to retire and I really need to pass this place onto someone else._ _If you need me, I'll be in Hawaii. Also, don't call me._

Frankly it was ludicrous. But he couldn't stop thinking about it.

There was no one who he really trusted at this point to carry on the legacy of Pop's Chock'Lit Shoppe. No one who had worked at the diner for the past 30 years, thanks to the revolving door of high school students who had come and gone over the decades.

No kids, and his wife gone now for what- 10 years? Had it really been that long? He and Ginger had always wanted a little Jimmy or little Susie, but God just hadn't put it in the cards for them. C'est la vie.

It seemed like the rest of Riverdale had said c'est la vie to the horrific incidents that were steadily becoming increasingly frequent.

There were some- people like Betty Cooper and Archie Andrews- who still believed in the fundamental goodness of Riverdale. They were young enough that the callousness of the world hadn't rubbed off on them fully yet, even after the darkness that plagued Riverdale targeted them directly. The older folks seemed more content to sit back and watch with vaguely disinterested dismay as everything that Riverdale stood for disappeared.

Maybe this was the true Riverdale- not the place of fulfilled dreams and optimistic townsfolk portrayed by the town leadership but filled with apathetic citizenry. That to Pop was somehow worse than just giving in to your baser natures and embracing who you truly are. If there was anything that he preferred about the Southside, it was that the people living there at least admitted most of what they did. The Northsiders did the same stuff but liked to pretend that everything was still perfectly legitimate. Better the Devil you know that the Devil you don't. That was something that Pop's mother used to say, and it was one thing that he agreed with.

* * *

As Alice Smith drove home that early Tuesday morning, she thought about her life. Not really a new occurrence, it was really all she thought about these days. Who she was (or who she thought she had been), all the things that had lead up to the moment when she realized that everything that she had desperately been trying to keep together had well and truly fallen apart. Her family, her marriage, her job at the Register. Her relationship with FP. All in flames and not a single thing that she had done to fix it had made one iota of a difference.

Sometimes it was all just too much.

As she approached the intersection of Aspen and Maple Streets, she considered the fact that a left would take her home and going straight would take her on to Main Street. From there, it turned Highway 43 and eventually the interstate and then from there- where? It would be so easy to just keep the car in drive and never look back. Really, she didn't even have to make the choice to leave Riverdale, just the choice not to go home and try to sift through the wreckage.

Often in life we think of our options as either being A or B. This, not that. Here, not there. But there is always a C, where you don't hit the A or the B button and instead refrain from choosing anything at all. It is in these moments that we realize that life, and the associated consequences, are going to happen no matter what we do. Our true path lies in mitigating those consequences and making them into something that we can live with.

Alice came to a stop at the intersection and glanced down at her phone. _5:45 AM._ Betty would be awake for school soon. If she wasn't home soon she knew she'd be on the receiving end of frantic text messages and phone calls and then she'd have to come up with a reasonable explanation as to why she left her youngest daughter home alone with no warning. If anyone had learned how to give Alice the second degree it was Elizabeth Cooper, which was ironic because Alice had taught Betty everything she knew. Like mother like daughter.

As of now, she only had one text message from the one person she decidedly did not want to talk to right now. _I'm sorry. FP._ He always signed off on his text messages like she would forget it was from him, even though the top of the screen displayed his name prominently.

She typed a short reply, but her finger hovered above the send button. How did they get into this mess? She hadn't thought that everything after they captured the Black Hood was going to be smooth sailing, but she didn't think that her and FP would have descended into dysfunctionality quite as quickly.

A car pulled up behind her and honked impatiently, shaking her out of her thoughts and causing her to hit send on the text message.

She wasn't sure whether it was an act of bravery or cowardice that made her turn left towards home and towards the rest of her life.

* * *

FP Jones had just about accepted that nothing in his life was ever going to work out like he hoped. He was honestly more surprised these days if the plans he made went smoothly and without complication. Which, to say the least, wasn't often.

He sat on his sagging couch and wondered if this was all that his earthly existence had in store for him. A small, worn out trailer with a few pieces of beat up furniture and the overwhelming desire to drink until he passed out. A family who had run out on him. Or had he pushed them out? It didn't really matter now, because Gladys and JB weren't coming back. His relationship with Jughead seemed to be on the mend but he knew that one wrong move would end things permanently. Jughead was old enough now that he could decide whether to keep FP in his life. He wouldn't blame Jughead at all if he cut him out completely.

Jughead only had a few more years before college and FP knew that after that Riverdale would be in his rearview mirror. Betty's too. There was nothing for them here except for the chance to make the same mistakes that their parents had made, and that was a damn shame. They'd probably make like bandits for New York City or Boston and this town would become a distant memory.

They would probably come home once a year or so, just long enough to remind themselves of why they had escaped in the first place. And when they drove out of Riverdale, they would rejoice that they had sailed out of the small-town doldrums. He could hear Betty now. _"We made it, Juggy,"_ she would breathe with a sigh of relief. _"Thank God."_

He hadn't imagined when he was a kid that he was destined for greatness but he sure as hell wasn't picturing this.

FP toyed with his cellphone, reading and rereading the text message that Alice had responded with.

 _I'm sorry too. Goodbye FP._

So that was it. Alice was officially out of his life. Again.

It wasn't the first time that Alice Smith had broken FP Jones' heart. Alice had a habit of digging up the rocks from the stony soil of his heart and planting something that could have been beautiful until she ripped it all up again.

He was still sitting enveloped in his thoughts when he heard Jughead stir in the back bedroom. FP scrubbed his face with his hands and tried to reattach his usually steely demeanor before the boy got too suspicious. It was going to be odd enough that FP was up at 6 o'clock in the morning anyways, at least on a day he didn't have work at the diner.

He knew Jughead would be in search of a large bowl of cereal and at least half of a pot of coffee, so he figured he could at least get a start on the coffee as a gesture of goodwill.

Jughead wandered out as FP finished putting the water into the machine and switched in on.

"You're up early, dad," he said, wiping the sleep from his eyes.

"Yeah," FP said, trying to look casual, "I couldn't sleep. Coffee should be ready soon." Jughead made a noise of approval and pulled the milk out of the fridge.

"You know, Dad, if you want to go out at night at least promise me you aren't drinking," Jughead said.

This almost caused FP to drop the coffee cup he was getting out of the cabinet. Smooth, FP, he thought.

"What…what are you talking about?" FP said.

"I had to get up early to finish some homework and I heard your truck pull up."

Jughead gave him a disapproving look and FP knew he was busted. It wasn't the first time. He knew that Jughead assumed that he was going back to his old ways. And, in a way, he was. Just not how Jughead thought.

FP turned to Jughead and took him gently by the shoulders.

"I promise you, Jug, I'm not drinking again," FP said, making sure that they were both looking each other in the eyes. If he didn't quell Jughead's fears now, Jughead's resentment would grow and eventually he would blow up. They both had a bad habit of bottling things up until it all came out in a torrent of hurt and anger.

"Well can you at least tell me where you were last night if you weren't out getting drunk?" FP could hear the tension in Jughead's voice and knew FP hadn't sold Jughead on his story, which wasn't a surprise considering how many times he had let the boy down in the past.

Now that Alice was gone, FP thought, Jughead was the only person left that FP could talk to.

"We need to have a talk," FP said. "And I'll tell you everything."

 _4 hours earlier_

FP thought, not for the first time, how glad he was that he had this room at the Whyte Wyrm. One of the few perks of being the Serpent King. Not like much of the rest of it had done him any good, personally or professionally.

It wasn't much more than a bed, a small desk and a dresser with a few changes of clothes in it but it was about as much home to him as the trailer. He slept here more often than not when he was still drinking, stumbling upstairs in a haze of alcohol, lulled to sleep by the cracking of pool balls and the smell of cigarette smoke.

He looked at the woman lying next to him. Sleep erased the tension in Alice Smith's face that had so often been present over the past few months. FP wished he could make her look like that all the time. All he had ever wanted to do was make her happy. When they were 17, it meant staying far away from him and he had accepted that for 25 years. Now, he was hoping it would be the other way around.

FP glanced at the alarm clock on his nightstand. _3:00._ They had a little more time before they would both have to return to their respective homes. It wasn't like they weren't telling their children about their relationship, they were planning to, it just hadn't happened yet. He wondered when the right time would be- knowing them it would probably come out at some momentous occasion like Betty and Jughead getting engaged.

 _Congratulations, kids, by the way, you're going to be stepsiblings!_

He was jumping ahead. The ink on Alice Smith's divorce papers was barely dry and he was technically still married to Gladys, at least legally. It had been at least three years since he'd even seen her. It alleviated somewhat the random pangs of guilt that floated up whenever he realized how much he loved Alice, and the even starker realization that he had never stopped.

So, there were no plans for marriage in their future. For now, it was best to take this thing day by day. He would take it minute by minute if it meant that maybe they'd both find the happiness they were looking for.

Alice stirred against him and snuggled deeper into his arms as she swam up from the depths.

"Hey, handsome," she said as she opened her eyes. God, she was beautiful, FP thought.

"Hey, babe. How did you sleep?" FP said.

"Well I could use a few more hours but it's always nice waking up next to you," Alice said, giving him a sleepy smile.

He slowly stroked her upper arm, feeling the softness of her skin and the warmth that radiated from her body. To the rest of Riverdale, she might be ice queen Alice but to him she was a sun and her light drew him in inescapably. When she wasn't around the world felt dull and uninspired. He would be perfectly happy to rotate around her for as long as she'd have him, satisfied to merely be in her presence.

"It's only three, you've got another hour or so if you want to go back to sleep."

Alice's eyes glinted. "Mmm, I can think of a few things that I'd rather do than go to sleep," she said as her hands began to roam his body and her lips traveled to his neck.

"You're going to be the death of me, Alice Smith." They'd gone two rounds since they had fallen into bed around 11. "But I'll at least die doing what I love," FP said with a small groan as Alice made a small noise of approval and began sucking on his earlobe. He couldn't think straight with this woman bewitching him. He never had.

Alice took advantage of FP's momentary distraction and moved to top of him to straddle him. She loved being on top, particularly when she could break FP's stoicism and make him lose control. Not that he didn't like having the upper hand himself but one of the things that he loved about Alice was that she wasn't afraid to take control and get what she wanted. It was what allowed her to get out of the Southside and out of his life. He only wished it hadn't taken 25 years for them to find each other again.

His hands gripped her ass and pulled her closer as she ground her hips against his. Alice relished in the fact that she could feel how much he wanted her. No one else made her feel like FP did. Confident, sexy and desired were three words that weren't in her vocabulary during her marriage with Hal.

She kissed him deeply, hair hanging like a curtain around their faces, creating a world where it was just the two of them. Their tongues dueled for control and Alice was seconds away from taking him into herself when FP's phone rang on his nightstand.

Alice paused her ministrations and gave him a quizzical look. "Who's calling at this time of the morning?"

As much as FP wanted to ignore it, he was afraid it could an emergency with Jughead so he reached over with a groan to grab his cellphone.

Hmm. He didn't recognize the number. Usually if he didn't have it saved in his phone he just let it go to voicemail but this time something compelled him to answer it. He'd never forgive himself if it was something wrong and he wasn't there. He wasn't going to be that kind of dad anymore.

"Hello?" He said, bracing himself to hear a police officer or worse on the other end of the line.

"Hey FP, it's me."

He was momentarily speechless, the voice on the other end of the phone being the last person he expected to hear from at 3 o'clock in the morning.

Gladys Jones.

He saw Alice mouth "who is it" soundlessly but he shook his head.

"What do you want?" He was not in the mood to deal with this right now. He hadn't spoken to his estranged wife in over two years, and now she calls the minute he started to rebuild his life?

"Look, I know we haven't talked in a while but I'm in trouble here. Jellybean and I are in trouble." Gladys put emphasis on the Jellybean part. She knew that no matter what their relationship was that he cared deeply for his daughter. "Please don't hang up."

"What's going on? Where are you?" FP could barely hear Gladys on the other end of the phone. It sounded like she was in a room full of people.

"I'm at a women's shelter, FP. I got into a bad situation and JB and I had to leave." She sighed heavily.

"What are you talking about? What happened?" FP was shocked. He always figured if Gladys was struggling that she would say something, anything, especially if it involved Jellybean, even if they were barely on speaking terms.

"Look, I don't really have time to talk about it right now but I just need you to listen to me. I want to come back to Riverdale and come home."

FP honestly really didn't know what to say. 6 months ago, this would have been all he had wanted to hear, that his family was finally coming back together.

Things were different now, but he didn't know how to convey that over a scratchy phone call in the middle of the night. Or in person, frankly.

"Okay. Just stay calm and try to get some sleep. Call me in the morning and we'll figure something out, alright?" FP said. "Is Jellybean there?"

"She's asleep," Gladys said. "I'll let her know that I talked to you. She's missed you so much."

"I know…I've missed her too." FP suddenly felt exhausted. As usual, the world threw another curveball at him and he hadn't even realized that he was up to bat.

"I'll call you in the morning, FP." Gladys didn't sound much better.

"Alright, be safe," FP said. He waited until he heard Gladys hang up the phone on the other end before he dropped it from his ear.

Alice had been laying on the bed, waiting for the conversation to end. Based on the few details she could make out, she had an idea of who it was. She was nothing if not observant.

"Who was that?" Alice said. She could already feel the ache starting to form in her chest.

FP turned slowly to her, bracing himself for what he was about to say.

"That was Gladys. She wants to come back and she needs my help." There was no point in trying to sugarcoat it.

Alice stiffened and FP could almost hear her heart break.

"Oh," she said flatly. "Well, in that case I should probably go." She rose and began to hastily gather her clothes. Where was her damn underwear?

"Alice, please don't go," FP pleaded. "She's in a shelter, she doesn't have anyone else."

Alice started to pull on her skirt. She felt like the room was suddenly boiling hot and she knew if she stayed much longer the tears were going to come and if she let herself cry in front of FP she'd just fall back into his arms again.

What do you do when the one person that makes you feel ok is part of the problem?

"This was a mistake, FP. You're still married and now your wife is coming back. I should have never let this happen."

In her heart, she knew if she had the chance she'd do it all again. In the back of her mind, however, she always knew this was bound to end in flames. People like her and FP were like matches and gasoline. They burned deliciously fast and hot but never lasted.

"This wasn't a mistake to me, Alice." FP said. She paused from where she was buttoning her blouse. "Not then and not now."

"I'll ask her for a divorce, Alice. Anything you want, just don't go."

She looked at him and he could tell that his words weren't enough. He wished he was better at expressing how he felt. She was everything to him and it was never enough to make her stay.

"Good luck with your family, FP."

That was all Alice had to say as she gathered up the last of her belongings and left the Wyrm. She didn't know where she was going or what she was going to do but anything was better than being there.

As she drove away tears filled her eyes. The pain was almost suffocating and it was all she could do to stay on the road. She had pushed away her one source of happiness yet again and it hurt just as bad as it had the first time.

Some things never change.

* * *

To FP, Jughead looked vaguely shocked. Not only was he not expecting for his dad to be going out with his girlfriend's mother, he also couldn't believe that his mother and Jellybean could be coming back to Riverdale.

Wasn't that what they all wanted? To be a family again?

For some reason the idea didn't excite him as much as he thought it would have. He didn't know why. Maybe it was just a desire for a few months of relative peace where nothing life changing really happened. They had certainly all earned it.

His dad had seemed happier and more relaxed over the past month or two that he had in years, and Jughead was afraid of anything that would jeopardize his hard-fought sobriety, not even if it meant Gladys and Jellybean being home.

FP fiddled with the salt shaker as he waited for Jughead's reaction to everything that he had told him.

"So…Mom's coming back." Jughead stated cautiously.

"Yes, possibly."

"And Jellybean, too."

"Of course."

"And they're going to live here?"

"Well," FP said. "We haven't really figured that out yet. She's going to call me sometime today and we are going to work out the details."

"So, what's going to happen with Betty's mom?" Jughead asked.

"Honestly, I don't really know." FP sighed. "Right now, she doesn't really want to talk to me."

Jughead got straight to the point with his real question. "Are you and mom getting a divorce?"

"I don't know that either, Jug. I guess we will figure it out."

"Do what you need to do, Dad," Jughead said. "I love you no matter what and I support you."

Hearing these uncharacteristic words from Jughead made FP grateful for every second of sobriety that he had achieved so far. He never expected to hear his son tell him that he loved him again.

"I love you too, son. We'll get through this together."

It was the first time in a long time that Jughead and FP had sat down and talked for more than a 15-minute stretch, and Jughead noticed for the first time the sprinkling of grey in his father's hair, as well as the crow's nests that were forming in the corners of his eyes. His father was getting older. So was he. All he wanted for his dad for him to be happy. He had thought at one time that that meant them all living happily ever after as a nuclear family of four. Mom, Dad, sister, brother. White picket fence, birds chirping and the sun shining.

Picture perfect.

He didn't know if that was even possible anymore.


End file.
